Defined Self
by sweetsnow73
Summary: We understand ourselves through means that we produce, the clothes we wear, the hairstyles we have. Sometimes though, we must push ourselves and learn all over again what it means to be ourselves.


The sound the scissors was ushering the end of her curls. The end of something more than curls. She wasn't sure what. The snip of the blades were far more ominous than they should have been regardless.

Elizabeth gulped and tried to stay still. She sat in a wooden chair, fairly uncomfortable but still, she was taught how to stay still despite conditions long ago. A spare piece of cloth was wrapped around her neck, it kept the pieces of her hair from landing on her clothing.

Sebastian had an amused look on his face, she glanced at him in the mirror. He carefully cut the singed hair off, trying to salvage some of her locks. He found a lot of weird things funny, she had stopped questioning it a long time ago. Still, she didn't care much for it, she felt like he was laughing at her.

Somewhere in the next room was the faint sounds of Ciel yelling at Bard, the cause of the mess her hair had become. She wished nothing had happened, she didn't blame the chef and didn't hate him. The flamethrower just missed fired, a faulty trigger…maybe…she didn't know for sure. Bard had lots of weird weapons, and she was fine, _really_. Her dress and hair had been the victims. There was a spare dress she had changed into and now her hair was getting worked on.

Nothing totally irreplaceable, and yet her tears swelled up anyway.

The dress could be replaced but her hair had taken _years_ to grow.

She felt foolish, so many different things defined her as a person, the least of which should have been her hair. It felt so petty...

She could picture her mother's reaction to this whole thing-her disappointment was already weighing her down across the ether of her imagination. She dreaded the expression she was sure to get. Perhaps worst of all, how her mother was sure to blame Ciel or Sebastian for letting her be so close to danger. She was never able to argue with her mother, and that made her feel worse.

She felt herself hollow, eyes unfocusing from the image in the mirror. It was just an accident. It was just hair. Hair that she had grown specifically because it made her cuter, hair she had curled every day for years, washed and pampered. Hair that her family had praised her on, making her look the part of the perfect girl. It was her history, a record of her existence, and it was gone. As if she hadn't lived at all.

The scissors clank together, the light tugging on her head and gentle prodding stopped. The lack of the metallic sound brought her out of her thoughts and she focused on the image in the mirror once more.

It came to her jaw now, the same length all around, her curls were now waves, too short to make the large curls she had forced them to become. She decided it was not cute at all, she didn't know what kind of person had hair like this, Auntie had something similar but Auntie was a different kind of woman, not one she measured up to at all. Who was this new person?

"Do you like it my lady?"

She turns her head to the left and right. She couldn't imagine this short hair with her cute bows and flowers. It was a mature and perhaps, adult look, some part of her said she didn't want to fit it, some part of her already did. It worried her, like her growth spurts.

"It's lovely Sebastian." She smiled and he gently removed the cloth around her in his regular flourishing style. He watched her carefully and she tried to project the positivity she was known for. She could sort this all out, of course she could.

It was just hair.

He nodded.

"One moment, please stay here." He gave her one of his odd smiles and turned around.

He walks away folding the cloth, he disappears through the door.

She realizes that the yelling had stopped, she had been so caught up she hadn't thought to try to listen to what Ciel had been saying. She blushed slightly, she was have to apologize to them all for this whole mess, Bard didn't deserve to get scolded so harshly over nothing.

She heard Sebastian's voice speak quickly and she was unable to make out his words. The other servants and then Ciel's voice were still muffled, incoherent. No one was yelling at least.

She signed, avoiding the mirror and looking around the room, but that yielded only a few moments of distraction and she looked into the mirror again.

Her hands reached up, she intended to simply flip what hair she could but instead she started to tug on her hair. Was she panicking? Her stomach knotted up, if only if she could make it grow back quickly. It wasn't logical, anything about how this made her feel. The tears she had been pushing back started to drip down.

Sebastian came back or she figured. She hadn't been paying attention but she felt some gentle fingers run through her hair. When she looked up she saw a decorative item in her hair. It had some ribbon flowers and lace, it matched the dress she had put on, the flowers tiny but lovely, with the lace accenting it perfectly, and ribbon tails hung down to her shoulders, a phantom mimic of where her hair should be. It softened her face, bringing back the curves her hair had. It was just on one side but it made the world of difference.

She felt better and when she was offered the handkerchief she wiped her drying tears away with a smile.

"Thank you Sebastian, it really is lovely."

She wasn't sure what kind of woman had this hair, but she would find out.

* * *

><p>Something fairly connected to change and letting go of the past is the act of cutting hair. You get rid of the old and welcome the new, however a lot of your identity can be in your hair. After all it's been with you for a long time, everyday, 247. Which seems obvious but it's not until you've had to change do you realize how much you are attached to the old.

I'm not sure what made me think about this, I haven't had a hair cut in a while but I love my hair very much and I have to be careful otherwise if my hair is cut too short I feel very unsure about who I am. While Lizzy would be a bit different, she spends a great deal of time cultivating her persona and sense of self to fulfill what she thinks she needs to be. If something happened to break that persona, in a way she couldn't immediately forget or pretend didn't happen I think it would free her after some great adjusting.

Of course some people wont relate to this kind of thinking at all but to each their own and all that!


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